


Sucker For Hire

by ultimate_ironyman



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Dick Jokes, M/M, Mentions of hookers, Necrophilia, Profanity, Rape, Spideypool - Freeform, Suicide, Violence, desecration of private property, everyone is in character sooo, ninja turtles - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-21 15:25:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11947119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultimate_ironyman/pseuds/ultimate_ironyman
Summary: Spider-Man didn't reveal his identity and has disappeared, abandoning his life as a crime-fighter. Tony Stark feels guilty, so he hires Deadpool to find Spidey and bring him home.





	1. Chapter 1

Tony Stark frequently saw red masks in his dreams. Usually his own, but there were plenty to choose from these days, and images from half-forgotten nightmares flashed through his mind at continuous intervals as he nursed a glass of melting ice and brandy, trying to forget while he waited. Remembering, forgetting, drinking, and waiting: Call it multi-tasking, if you will.

The time was three in the morning - the witching hour, when even the part of the city that didn't sleep at least found a dark hole to crawl into. For now the streets were quiet, and the street washers were just waking up to clean them in a manner that involved a lot less casual civilian deaths than the Avengers could ever provide - the real heroes. The hour was late even for Tony, who didn't sleep so well these days even when he drowned the nightmares. At least tonight he had a reason to stay up. Tony was waiting for several things.

Number one: The sun. No matter how bad his nightmares got, for some reason they seemed a little less threatening when the sun was up. The second was notably less welcome, despite the implicit invitation: A certain person, or a certain mercenary to be more specific, and he was due to arrive any moment. So Tony wasn't surprised when he heard the small alarm go off, and Friday's soft voice from the intercom:

_You have a visitor, sir. Deadpool is on the roof._

Tony sighed, activating his suit before he'd reached the elevator. He'd learned the hard way years ago that it was best to always wear a suit on the roof.

He vividly remembered that night years ago, even if he didn't want to. Less than a year in, maybe fifteen or sixteen, Peter had made his first surprise visits. Tony had found him crumbled on the roof, and felt a sinking in his chest that had nothing to do with schematics or an alcohol-induced heart attack.

Peter had always been Tony's responsibility as far as the billionaire was concerned. The kid had practically no one he could depend on besides Tony. He'd looked up to Tony, wanted to be just like Tony, wanted to impress Tony - and if Peter died, it would be on Tony. Tony wasn't good with birthdays, but God he'd been young. Too young. No one had ever thanked Tony for recruiting a fourteen-year-old high school freshman to the Avengers team except the fourteen-year-old, who was too stupid to know better at the time.

Unlike AI, kids were complex creatures capable of higher level reasoning, particularly the philosophical kind. They had feelings. Peter had tried to overcompensate for the part of himself that Tony found dull and uninteresting by hacking his suit after only a few months and crashing Tony's plane. Parenting was a lot harder and more complicated that Tony had first assumed it would be.

So when Tony saw Peter's listless body lying completely still, crumbled in on itself, his first feeling was immense guilt. This was on him. His second feeling was immense pain, as something connected to the side of his head - hard. Without his suit, Tony was defenseless. He crumbled to one knee, dazed and panicking.

"Dude, what the hell?! You just hit Tony Stark!" said a voice from somewhere to his left.

Tony wavered, struggling to stand. _That's the last time I do this without a suit_ , he thought warily to himself.

"Bro- My bad. It's totally dark out here. How was I supposed to know?" another voice replied. Two voices intermingled in heated responses:

"It's his roof, you idiot! Who else would be here?!"

"Check it before you wreck it, dude!"

Tony stood on shaking legs, looking around wildly. He clutched the side of his head, and his fingers came away damp with blood - nothing alarming, but mildly irritating. He felt like he'd been hit with a brick, but couldn't be sure.

"Who's there?" he asked in a commanding tone.

He tried not to look intimidated when four hulking figures emerged from the shadows. Tony had seen a lot of shit in his life, and he'd seen a lot of shit in his life under the influence of hallucinogens too - the eighties were amazing -But he'd never seen anything quite like this.

They were huge - each of them was easily over six feet tall, and definitely non-human - but still human-like, with bulbous green limbs and huge shells on their backs. They were dressed in an odd assortment of garments that looked like something out of a hobo's nightmare. And they were wearing masks.

"I told you, we should've just left Pete here and-"

"If Pete says we can trust Stark, we can trust him."

Pete - Peter - Spider-Man, who was still passed out on his roof. Somehow these . . . things . . . knew Peter's secret, but this wasn't the time to ask questions. Explanations would have to wait. Tony ran to Peter, bending down as he gently rolled him over. Tony didn't hesitate as he pulled off Peter's mask. It was unorthodox, but Tony was afraid to move Peter around too much until he knew for sure, so he pulled Peter's mask over his own head.

It smelled like a gym, and Tony again made a solemn vow to never go to the roof without a suit again.

_Hello Tony_ , said Karen.

"Fill me in," ordered Tony as he scanned Peter's body with the mask.

_Peter has been shot with some type of armor-piercing ammunition_ , replied Karen in a calm voice.

Tony knew before she finished the sentence - he could see the bullet with the mask's x-ray filter, lodged deeply in Peter's shoulder. The entry wound was surprisingly small. Tony had designed the suit to keep blood in, so at least he now knew that feature worked. Not a drop had spilled on the ground around them, which meant that Peter's blood was safe. . . for now. How long would that last? It was a concern that always lingered in the back of Tony's mind.

Tony pulled off the mask. Peter's blood was fine, but the rest of Peter's body not so much. The wound wasn't life-threatening, but it had probably hurt like a bitch, and then somehow Peter had swung there, the safest place he could think of. No wonder he'd passed out. Tony felt a glimmer of parental pride as he turned back to the mysterious figures.

"Help me get him inside."

The one in the purple mask bent down and picked Peter up with ease. They quickly followed Tony inside and downstairs to his lab.

"Put him on the table," ordered Tony, simultaneously deactivating Peter's suit. It fell off him like a parachute, and Tony pulled it down far enough to get a good look at the bullet wound. Underneath the suit, Peter's skin was covered in blood, and Tony had to remind himself that it (probably) looked worse than it (probably) was, since the suit had forced the blood to pool evenly underneath.

"He'll be ok, right?" asked the freak with the purple mask. He was wearing goggles that looked suspiciously like the ones Peter had worn before his systemic top-to-bottom Stark Tech upgrade.

"He'll live," said Tony as he quickly typed some programs into DUM-E. The robot soon whirred to life over Peter, and Tony quickly backed away from the table. He had no desire to get blood spray on his silk shirt.

"Oh that is totally sick, bro," said the turtle-thing in an orange mask as they watched it remove the bullet from Peter's shoulder.

The procedure was done in less than five minutes, and DUM-E was soon burning the bullet hole in Peter's shoulder to solder his skin together. Tony knew he'd never get used to the smell, but he was thankful that the bullet hadn't fragmented - that might have been a real pain in the ass. Peter never stirred.

But Tony now had another pain in the pass to deal with: Spider-Man was his pet project, a personal hobby. He'd only managed to get Spider-Man off the hook because Peter was technically underage. Maybe it had been a little selfish letting Spider-Man off the hook on the whole superhero registration thing, but was he really expected to look the other way every time Peter dragged a new costumed vigilante to his front door? What the hell were these guys, anyway? 

All four of the masked weirdos seemed visibly relieved when Tony collapsed onto his work chair, sighing. They seemed to take it as an indication that Peter was out of the woods now. He angled the chair around to face them.

"Um, who are you again?" he asked.

They looked back and forth at one another, then began to talk all at once:

"Well, technically we're mutants-"

"We're turtles, bro, no shame-"

"Underage teenagers, ineligible for the Superhuman Reg-"

"Mutant turtles-"

"We're ninjas."

"Teenage mutant ninja turtles. Gotcha," said Tony, rubbing his temples. He had a feeling he was going to have to let this one slide after all- how the hell was he going to explain it to Ross anyway? Part of him was deeply disturbed, and the other was a little endeared that Peter was making new friends his own age.

The mutant turtle in the purple mask and Spidey Tech stepped forward.

"Peter. . Er, I mean Spider-Man was helping us out tonight. He's a good guy. Thanks for taking care of him."

"Yeah, and sorry about your head, Mr. Stark," said the one in the orange mask.

Tony waved the apology away.

"Don't mention it."

And that was why Tony never went to the roof without a suit again. After taking a nunchuck to the head from an underage mutated turtle, he had no desire to repeat the experience - even if the rooftop meeting was prearranged. Good times. Had it really been a decade since then?

"Yo, Iron Dick!"

Tony groaned inwardly.

"Deadpool," he replied in a cool tone.

"You didn't have to get all dressed up just for me," said Wade, and Tony could sense him grinning beneath the leather mask.

"Can't be too careful these days," said Tony.

"Yeah, you never know when a ninja turtle is gonna nunchuck your ass. This city's really gone to shit."

Tony opened his mouth, gaping slightly.

"Saw it in the flashback, bro."

Tony sighed. He knew it was best to just get down to business when it came to dealing with this guy.

"I've got a job for you."

Wade stood up a little straighter.

"Is this one of those pesky government contracts, or does this job actually involve money?"

Tony allowed himself a slight smile.

"Little bit of both."

"So there's money?"

"There's a lot of money."

Wade squealed happily, practically jumping up an down with glee.

"So....? Who does the 'government' need me to nearly un-alive?" asked Wade, crossing the roof to talk face-to-face (or at least mask-to-mask) with Tony.

"It's not the government. It's me," said Tony, as his mask swung up with a metallic clang.

This information made Wade pause.

"Something personal? That's not like you, Iron Dick." he replied, sounding slightly suspicious.

Tony took a deep breath.

"I need you to find someone for me-" he said quickly, but before he could finish the sentence, Wade was already backing away. Tony ignited the thrusters in his suit, hovering a few feet from the ground.

"Oh no, Iron Cock. You aren't dragging my ass into this," said Wade. "If Spidey wanted to be found, he'd weave us a giant web that said, 'Suck my spiderballs,'" said Wade, sauntering to the edge of the roof.

Tony bit his lip slightly, trying to hide the irritation from showing on his face. The mercenary wasn't wrong, but Tony was determined to convince him otherwise.

"You're right," he said. "I'm not arguing with you about that. That's where the money comes in. " Wade stopped, and Tony smiled inwardly, confidant that at least Wade would hear him out if there was cash involved.

"You must be real far up shit creek if you're calling me in," said Wade, keeping his back to Tony, feigning indifference. They both knew it was bullshit.

"I'm not calling you in. I told you, this isn't government. I need your help." Tony added a little extra sigh at the end to let Wade know he really meant it. "I really mean that. I need your help, Deadpool."

"Finding Spidey." It wasn't a question, but a statement.

"Convincing him to come back," said Tony. There was no point beating around the bush - the longer he monologued, the less likely Wade was going to agree to this.

Deadpool finally turned, the eyes on his mask narrowing at the billionaire who had the nerve to call himself a philanthropist.

"You're a real sicko, you know that? All those years, you used him like some kind of fucked-up experiment to deal with your own daddy issues. How old was he when you pitted him against Captain America? Fourteen? That's loco, man. Messing with kids is a no-no. I've just got one question for you, Stark."

Tony tensed, feeling slightly guilty. There was no point in denial. Of course it was all true - like the stupid memory box he'd used to jerk off MIT, Tony had long accepted that Peter was probably just a really expensive psycho-therapy experiment - one that had gone horribly wrong on top of that. But even if he already knew it, hearing the truth put so bluntly by the Merc with a mouth still took the air out of Tony's lungs.

"What?" he said, trying not to sound unsettled.

Wade put two fingers beneath the neck of his mask, pulling it up. Tony already knew Wade's identity- there was no point in concealing himself here, and he obviously wanted Tony to see his mangled face while he interrogated him.

"Did you make him call you 'daddy?'"

Tony face-palmed, wondering how flat he could make Wade's body by punching him with the suit repeatedly - but there was no point. Wade would probably enjoy it.

"I just need you to bring him back," said Tony. "The city needs him. The Avengers need him."

"You need him?" This was a question, not a statement.

Tony sighed. He opened the suit, stepping out so he could face Deadpool himself.

"Mano a mano. . . Let's cut the bullshit, Wade, because nothing I've told you so far has been a lie, and no matter what I say, you aren't going to trust me. I've done terrible things. You know it, I know it, everyone knows it. I'm not sugar-coating anything. I'm a scientist. I invent, transform, create, and destroy for a living, and when I don't like something about the world, I change it. But we both know I'm no hero. Not like he was. The city needs him. People need him, even if he doesn't think so. He has to come home."

Wade tossed a couple pieces of popcorn into his mouth from the bucket sitting on his lap. Throwing it aside, he pretended to wipe a tear from his cheek.

"What a beautiful fucking monologue, Tony. I can just see your Oscar now -wait, do they give out Oscars for best portrayal of a humongous douche?" sniped Wade, turning again as he pulled his mask back down. Tony didn't take the bait, and there was only one thing left to talk about: "How much?"

Tony smirked.

"Twenty-five million."

Wade whistled.

"I like the way those words roll off your tongue so easily. That's hot. I want you to say it again, Daddy, but this time say it like this: ' _Thirty-five million_ ," cooed Wade.

Tony grimaced, holding his hand down to keep from face palming himself again.

"Fine, thirty-five. But if you don't bring him back, you don't get paid."

"If that's the case, you better have some idea where he is. Travel expenses bro. I've got bills to pay."

Tony had prepared himself for this, rehearsed it even, but he still hesitated. Finally, after careful deliberation, he spoke:

"I don't know where Spider-Man is-" he said.

"Dude- what the fuck?! Do you know how big this fucking planet is-" launched Wade, but Tony cut him off:

"-But I do know where Peter Parker is."

Wade groaned.

"Problem, Wade?" asked Tony, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, when you shoot a guy in the head to send him to hell, then resurrect him so you can shoot him in the head again with a bigger gun . . . things get a little awkward."

Tony didn't really want to know, but he was a little bemused.

"Spider-Man was Parker's personal body guard. When Spider-Man disappeared, so did Parker. It doesn't take Sherlock Holmes to put two and two together," said Tony, crossing his arms over his chest. It was windy on the roof, and a light misting rain had begun to fall.

Wade clutched the sides of his masked head as he wrestled with his inner demons.

"If it's a corpse, it's not really assault, right? Rigor mortis does crazy things to the human body . . . Damn, why did he have to be naked?"

"Jesus, Wade, make it thirty-seven, just shut up," said Tony, massaging his temples. "I'll give you the two million up front. For travel expenses."

Wade perked up, looking over his shoulder at Tony.

"Alright, you've got a deal, but I'll need fifteen million up front. I told you, I've got bills to pay. Where am I traveling to, boss?"

"Fifteen million dollars worth of bills?" Tony gritted his teeth to keep his curses from escaping.

"A good hooker isn't cheap. You should know."

As he'd known he probably would, Tony felt almost immediate buyer's remorse, but he'd already talked himself into this. He wasn't backing out now.

"Fine. Fifteen million upfront, the rest when Spider-Man is back in New York City. Better start packing - you're going to Wakanda," said Tony, stepping backwards into the suit. It made more sense than standing in the rain.

"Son of a bitch. I better get up to date on my immunizations." Wade climbed onto the edge of the building, looking down over the city. "Just out of curiosity, what the hell makes you think I can convince Spidey to come back anyway?" he asked.

"Because . . . he said you were his friend," said Tony.

Wade turned back one last time before jumping off the roof.

"So this is just more rich-people therapy? Booze is a lot cheaper, you know," he called out over the wind as he stepped forward into the blackness.

"Yeah, thanks for the advice," said Tony to no one as he chuckled slightly. He'd never admit it, but deep down he wished he was the one going to Wakanda. Instead, he was paying a relatively considerable amount of money to send someone else, and the fact that it was Deadpool made it all the more surreal. Tony felt more than a tinge of regret, but deep down he also knew what Peter probably needed now was a friend, not a parent. 


	2. Chapter 2

Three days later, Deadpool was on Tony Stark's private plane headed to Wakanda. He bounced his knee anxiously sitting in the white leather chair of his seat, bored as hell. He'd already watched three movies, spent half an hour jumping up and down on Tony's king-sized bed, and jerked off onto Tony's pillow. Wade wondered what kind of club he now qualified for. 

Now the plane was finally in descent, and Wade smiled to himself beneath his mask. He was in a third-world country with a suitcase full of cash, and it was high-time for a vacation.

Tony had given Wade a vague report about Peter Parker's whereabouts, and for the time being, Wade sticking to Tony's plan: Find Peter Parker. The sky was dark as he exited the plane, which was convenient. It meant Wade could get to work right away. He caught a cab in front of the airport, ignoring the driver's long stare as he jumped into the backseat with his suitcase. 

"Here's the address," said Wade, handing his new friend a slip of paper. The driver made no reply. Wade tried Xhosa,  but still received only a blank stare and a strange look in the rear view mirror before stepping on the gas. Wade had only a vague idea where he was going - he tried to avoid places like this whenever he could. Too much HIV, not enough hookers. 

Twenty minutes later, the cab pulled over. The neighborhood was a real dump - did Peter Parker really live here? They were on the outskirts of the city, and the buildings were more like shacks - crudely constructed hovels that looked like they would collapse any moment, many adorned with graffiti. Trash lined the sides of the buildings, and there was a distinct smell of human excrement. Wade looked around wearily before handing the cab driver a one-hundred dollar bill. Tony Stark could afford it. 

Wade took note of some faded anti-Hulk tags, and still couldn't really imagine Peter Parker or Spider-man hiding out here - but whatever. He doubted Stark's intel was wrong.

The cab driver pulled off, leaving Wade alone on a dark street corner.  He pulled a blurred photo out of a pocket.  The photo had obviously been taken by a drone, and the quality was shit. Wade studied it a few minutes, looking around the empty street.  It showed one particular shack that Deadpool assumed was Peter Parker's new crib.

"Jesus, I should have asked for twenty-five up front," muttered Wade. He began walking up the street, comparing each building to the picture. After forty minutes of effort, he had a match. Removing a bic lighter with a picture of a T-Rex riding a moped on it from a pouch on his belt, he lit the picture on fire and watched it flutter to the ground as it dissolved into ashes. 

"Now do I go for subtlety, or do I kick the door in?" he asked himself aloud, but the answer was obvious when he remembered the last close encounter he'd had with Parker. He could still remember Peter Parker's stupidly friendly face as he'd opened the door that day, expecting tacos for breakfast. Instead, he'd eaten a bullet. And had a shotgun shell for lunch. Wade sighed.  _So awkward_.  "I went for subtlety last time. This time I'll try kicking the door in." 

Wade just hoped he was in the right place as he delivered a well-placed kick to the weakest part of the door. It flew open, sending splinters flying from the hinges. Inside, no lights came on. The building remained dark. 

"Yo, Peter Parker?" Wade called out into the blackness. "You here, buddy? It's your old pal - _Deadpool_. " The last part came out in a menacing growl that sounded way more threatening than he'd meant it to, but completely bad ass. "Damn, forgot the flashlight," he muttered.  He ran a gloved hand along the wall looking for a light switch, but there was nothing. 

"You broke my door," said a voice in the darkness. 

Wade's eyes instantly narrowed behind his mask as they tried to adjust, straining to see where the voice was coming from. 

"What can I say? I've got a flair for the dramatic," replied Deadpool. He gripped the suitcase firmly in one hand, while the other snaked up to a katana almost reflexively. 

"Knocking's easier, you know." 

"I prefer chimneys, actually. Forget to pay the power bill?" asked Wade, still stepping forward cautiously in search of the source of the voice. There was a clap, and the lights came on. "That's better," said Wade, his eyes zeroing in on the man he'd traveled over three-thousand miles to. . . bribe. 

"I half-expected you to be all nomad-Captain America, like with a kick-ass beard and shit," said Wade, cocking his head to one side. 

"Very funny. Did you bring the money?" asked Peter. He hadn't changed much in the past couple of years, but he was sporting a great tan that made Wade a little jealous. 

Wade grinned, lifting the suitcase to chest height. 

"You are one ice-cold motherfucker, Mr. Parker," said Wade. He crouched and opened the suitcase to show the scientist the stacks of cash inside. "Ten million, as agreed." 

"Good - and thanks to you, I know for sure that Tony Stark's found me," said Peter with a slight sigh, eyeing the cash with a raised eyebrow. 

Wade grinned. 

"Yep, twenty-minute cab ride from the airport. Stark had enough info to send me straight to your front door. Even a cute little photo. What the hell is this place, anyway?" asked Wade, snapping the suitcase closed as he took a look around the lightened room.

 A futon was rolled up in the corner, but this wasn't a typical apartment. There were makeshift cabinets with medical tools laid out on them, and an examination table. It smelled faintly medicinal, like a doctor's office. 

"You doing the Banner thing? Sexy tan, no beard . . ." 

"Something like that," said Peter, running a hand through his hair absently. 

"I'm guessing the pay for black market surgeons sucks," said Wade. "That why you decided to take Iron Dick for a ride? Nice. Not many people are willing to fuck with Tony Stark. I think most people would consider it a terrible career move, actually. Unless you planned on disappearing again real soon, in which case ten million dollars might come in pretty handy, huh?" 

Peter made no reply, letting the room fall to an uncomfortable silence. 

"Ok, don't tell me then. I just want what we agreed on, Parker." 

Peter was obviously more than a little surprised, looking almost as if Wade had just punched him in the gut. 

"Tony didn't tell you?" he asked, the words slipping past his lips before he could stop himself. 

Wade raised an eyebrow beneath the mask. He didn't like where this conversation was going.

"Tell me _what_ , Parker?" He was slightly confused.Their agreement had been a relatively simple one, and so far everything had been going great. Peter Parker had been one of the last people Wade had ever expected to hear from, but his surprise on hearing Parker's plan to pull a fast one on his pal Tony had quickly turned to glee. He'd only had one condition. But no part of the plan involved Peter Parker jerking him around over a suitcase full of hundred dollar bills. 

Peter didn't reply right away, and Wade was starting to get impatient. 

"The deal was I bring you lots and lots of Tony Stark's money, and you tell me where to find Spider-Man, remember?" said Wade with a slight growl. 

"I know," said Peter, avoiding the eyeholes in Deadpool's mask as his own danced back and forth, as if trying to find the right words. "I just thought . . .Tony might have said something, but I guess not." He sounded slightly disappointed.

"Fuck Tony Stark! Why does everyone get such a hard-on for that guy?! Is it the facial hair? Does he really have an iron dick? No, never mind. I don't even want to know. Just tell me where to find Spider-Man for fuck's sake!" said Wade, throwing patience out the window. "I won't tell Stark where he is. It'll be our secret." 

"You won't find him," said Peter. 

Wade's hand flew to the handle of a katana. 

"The fuck? You _did not_   drag me all the way to fucking Wakanda for this bullshit . . ." 

"He's dead," said Peter, exhaling the words like knives as he looked up sharply. 

Wade froze, his fingers gripping the sword tightly.

"Say that again?"

"Spider-Man's dead. He's never coming back."

"Oh, now that is _horseshit_ ," said Wade, throwing the suitcase down. He sat down on top of it, letting his head sink into his hands. 

Peter observed him quietly, biting his lip slightly. 

"You tricked me, Parker," said Wade in a low voice. "You ice-cold motherfucker." 

"Why do you want to find him so badly anyway?" asked Peter, changing the subject. 

Wade looked up at him.

"We had . . . unfinished business." 

Peter raised an eyebrow. 

"What kind of unfinished business could Spider-Man possibly have with you?" he asked incredulously. 

Wade sighed loudly and stood.

"I had plans," he said, pacing over to the cabinets. "Fun, awesome plans." He began throwing them open with reckless abandon. "Where the hell do you keep the alcohol around here?" he asked. 

"There isn't any. What plans?" 

Wade sighed. No WIFI, no Spider-Man, no booze. This place was a real hell hole. 

"I was going to bend him over my knee and make him call me daddy while I spanked his tight little-"

"Ok, got it. Thanks," said Peter, quickly cutting him off. "The hand motions were really unnecessary." 

"You asked," said Wade. "Also, can't help but notice that this is technically a doctor's office, so I know you have alcohol. Stop fucking with me." 

"Rubbing alcohol is ninety-nine proof," said Peter. "If you try to drink that, it'll kill you." 

"Promise?" asked Wade in a dark tone that gave Peter pause. 

"Bottom cabinet on your left," said Peter with a shrug.

Wade found the plastic bottle of disinfectant. With a quick toast of YOLO he downed a third of the bottle. It smelled like death, and tasted even worse, but it definitely took the edge off. He'd regrow his liver later anyway. 

"So how did it happen, huh?" asked Wade. "Don't tell me he offed himself." 

Peter hesitated before he answered. 

"Something like that," he replied. 

"Goddamnit," said Deadpool, taking another chug from the bottle of rubbing alcohol. He lifted his mask, not caring if Peter Parker saw him unmasked at this point. His eyes were rimmed with red. "Why?" 

"I-I guess he just lost his grip on reality," stammered Peter.  "He didn't know what was real anymore. Everything felt empty for him. He didn't want to do it anymore, but there was no other way out for him." 

"Do _what_ anymore?" 

"Be Spider-Man, I guess." 

"And what about you, Parker? What the hell is this about?" he asked, slurring his words slightly as he gestured around the room they were in.

"Same deal. I'm done being Peter Parker. No one knows who I am here. No one cares. I'm just a friendly, neighborhood doctor. I help people. Whether it's real or fake, at least it's simple." 

"Then why run?" growled Wade sharply. 

Peter looked struck by Wade's tone. 

"Because Stark found me. Do you really think he'll be the last?" 

It was a logical response, but Wade still felt inexplicably angry at Peter Parker, and he didn't even know why. Was it because he was jealous?

Spider-Man had always protected Parker above all others, kept the motherfucker on a pedestal, and for what? So he could end up dead and alone in some foreign shit-hole, with no one to even mourn him? 

"Why _me_?" asked Wade, sinking to the floor once again as he nursed the plastic bottle. "Why did you call _me_? Was dragging me all the way here just to tell me Spidey's dead really necessary? Couldn't you just send a fucking text? Facebook me, maybe? And all this time I thought _Stark_ was a pretentious asshole." 

Peter approached the assassin carefully, and gently pried the bottle out of Wade's gloved hands. He received no protests from the inebriated assassin. 

"Sorry," he muttered, replacing it in the cabinet. "Stay here tonight, if you want," said Peter kindly. 

"Yeah, yeah, and after I pass out, you get to do the whole disappearing-in-the-dead-of-night-with-a-suitcase-full-of-cash act," said Wade, slouching against the wall. 

"Something like that," said Peter, giving him a lopsided smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. 

"Funny, usually the hookers give me a blow job before they steal all my money. It's just common courtesy."

"You can think of it as date rape, if that helps," said Peter, still smiling. 

Wade frowned, thinking about it, but it didn't help. Either way he was getting fucked. 

"You know, sometimes I just want to punch you in your perfect teeth," said Wade sardonically. 

"Wasn't shooting me in the head twice good enough?" asked Peter. 

"Third time's . . . the charm. . . " muttered Wade, his eyelids growing heavier as he realized that he really was going to pass out. Everything was spinning now, but not in a fun way. "Shit, I'm wasted," he slurred. "Wait, I don't get it . . . this isn't the first time I've drank rubbing alcohol. It shouldn't be affecting me like this." 

"I know, but I needed a back-up plan, so I spiked it with some horse tranquilizer," said Peter, smiling sadly. He offered no explanation for how he'd known the mercenary would take the bait. 

"Damn . . .It tasted kinda funny, but I thought it was like drinking Coca-Cola in Mexico. . ." 

"I just wish I could be a fly on the wall when you break the news to Tony," said Peter, casting a glance toward the suitcase. 

"Jesus, Parker . . . You're one ice-cold motherfucker. . . " 

"You might have mentioned it," said Peter, but Deadpool was already unconscious. Peter reached out, gently pulling the assassin's mask back down over his sleeping face. 

"Sorry, Wade," he said sadly. Peter walked over to the discarded suitcase and picked it up, turning back to Deadpool's slumped-over form one last time before he turned out the lights. "I guess I dragged you all the way here . . . because you're my friend." 

Peter grabbed the rolled-up futon off the floor and slung it over his shoulder. His spider senses were telling him that it was time to go. Peter stopped just before crossing the threshold of the now-demolished door, but he didn't look back. Looking back had always hurt more than any fight. 

  
"If Tony had told you the truth about my identity, I probably would have let you spank me. . . Daddy." 

And even though no one could see him in the dark, and the mercenary was completely unconscious, Peter's cheeks were still flushed as he pulled the black mask over his burning face. _Fuck you, Tony_ , he thought to himself, clutching the suitcase handle tightly as he disappeared silently into the night. 


End file.
